


Bonds of Friendship

by pantswarrior



Series: The Cultists' Cycle [7]
Category: Vagrant Story
Genre: Bondage, Light-Hearted, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-26
Updated: 2010-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-11 06:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantswarrior/pseuds/pantswarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hardin is none too pleased about the effects of Sydney's hands on his back when he's on top. Fortunately, he has an idea of how to prevent it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bonds of Friendship

Hardin nearly cracked his head on the doorway as Sydney practically dragged him through into the bedchambers they now shared more often than not. Being thoroughly preoccupied with the kiss that they exchanged - that they'd been exchanging now for a minute or so, for that matter, ever since one of Sydney's lessons in spellcasting had... well, abruptly changed into an entirely different sort of schooling - the mage simply didn't notice how close he'd come to injuring his friend and lover. It was a part of his charm, this oblivious singlemindedness, Hardin thought dimly through the thick haze of desire in his mind.

Sydney may have been small compared to Hardin, but he managed to pull the larger man to the bed with little effort. No longer to let only their lips clash desperately, Hardin let his knees give out and simply fell back onto the mattress, Sydney landing lightly atop him. With a small laugh, the mage rolled them onto their sides, entwining them in a tangle of arms and legs and anticipation. Hardin's hands went to untie the cords of Sydney's leggings, albeit with reluctance - the feel of Sydney's hips grinding insistently against his was almost too much to give up, even for the promise of more pleasurable sensations. Sydney, in turn, pulled Hardin's already loosened shirt over his head, grinning widely; unlike most teachers, he didn't object to an interruption in his lessons in the slightest.

"So," the blonde whispered as Hardin resumed his unlacing of the complicated leggings, "shall I be on top again this time, or would you like to be..." He smirked a little. "...In charge?"

Hardin couldn't focus his thoughts quite properly at the moment, though he seemed to remember that there had been a reason why he was reluctant to be on top. He couldn't think what it might have been, though, and it had been awhile... "I'll do it," he murmured eagerly, his lips caressing Sydney's throat and his shoulders, as the blond tossed his head in ecstasy.

Once he'd slid Sydney's leggings off his hips, he gently turned the two of them over, pressing Sydney down into the mattress beneath him. This too would be a nice change, after a few too many of Sydney's little ambushes in the least likely - and usually not particularly comfortable - places. Sydney's legs wrapped around his waist in an especially pleasing manner, and Hardin groaned a little as he felt Sydney's hard warmth pressing into his stomach. The mage's hands, however, were by contrast cold as they rose beneath Hardin's arms to clutch at his shoulders and pull his upper body down as well, close enough to claim another kiss.

It was that sensation of cold sharpness that reminded Hardin of why it had been some time since he'd pleasured Sydney rather than the other way around, and he drew in a deep breath, tensing at the feel of the steel blades upon his skin. "Sydney..."

Again, Sydney was oblivious, as he nipped at Hardin's neck. "Hardin...?"

As much as it pained him, Hardin shook his head and pushed Sydney's hands away as he rolled onto his back again. "You do it, Sydney."

"Mmm...?" The mage looked at him, puzzled, disheveled, and a little dazed. After a moment, the laugh he gave told Hardin that he'd picked up on his thoughts. "Hardin, I'm sorry..." he chuckled breathlessly. "I'll try a bit harder to control myself this time, if you like."

"That is what you said last time, if I remember correctly." He winced anew in remembrance of the stinging gashes in his back - even Sydney's healing spells could not banish the memory of pain. "I think I'll simply let you be on top from now on - you're much less dangerous when your hands are occupied with balancing yourself atop me."

"That's not quite fair, though, is it?" Hardin brushed the pale hair out of Sydney's eyes as the mage sat up, the dangerous hands resting lightly upon Hardin's hips. "I _like_ the way you handle me, John Hardin," he continued with a wicked grin, "and I happen to know that you enjoy it a great deal as well. Variety is a good thing, is it not?"

"Until you begin to filet me like a fish," Hardin muttered. "Variety is not quite as important to me as keeping my blood where it belongs - inside me."

"Oh, Hardin..." The bladed fingers tightened on Hardin's hips as the mage laughed and pulled the larger man atop him again.

"No." Hardin stood firm.

Sydney raised a curious eyebrow at him. "Should I remove them, then?"

"_Gods_, no!" Words could not convey how much that idea disturbed and repulsed him; mechanical or not, those arms were a part of Sydney, and he'd no sooner have asked a more normal lover to lop off arms of flesh and blood.

Sydney laughed again at the horrified look on his face. "Well then, we have little choice, do we?" he said lightly, tugging Hardin closer by way of his pants. "For you _will_ handle me, and I shall not let you go until you have."

At the feel of Sydney's stiffness pressing against his own, Hardin almost forgot his convictions, but he shook his head firmly. "Not unless I can be certain you will not forget yourself again," he told the mage, who feigned a pout.

"Surely there must be some way you can be convinced," Sydney purred, stroking down his friend's chest with the tips of the claws.

The sensation had always been both eerie and intoxicating, but Hardin refused to let himself be compelled by it again, and turned his head, avoiding Sydney's eyes as he sat up. He would not look into those dark, intense eyes - he simply would not. He would lose himself, and then Sydney would lose himself, and then he might very well lose some part of his anatomy, if Sydney got a little bit too excited.

Sydney's claws continued their gentle, tickling exploration of his body, and Hardin found himself fighting to concentrate on anything else - anything at all that would keep him from falling under the mage's spell, that would perhaps buy enough time for him to cool off. His eyes scavenged the room, falling upon the small round table, the hearth, the patterns of the stone floor, the chest of drawers. The very end of some garment was hanging out from one drawer, and that provided Hardin with a bit of distraction, as he sought to determine what it was. A silk scarf, he thought - one of the swatches that Sydney used in his rituals of dance...

And suddenly he was inspired.

Sydney's claws halted in mid-stroke as he picked up on the thought. Hardin glanced back at him, considering the matter, and Sydney's dark eyes held a look of disbelief. "You cannot be serious..."

Hardin nodded. "Completely serious." He met Sydney's intense gaze firmly. "Would you allow me to do this?"

Sydney hesitated, then a smile spread across his face. "I did say I liked variety, did I not?"

"Then we shall try it," Hardin agreed. "Lie back and relax for just a moment - I'll be right back..."

\---

"This is absurd, and I hope you know that."

Sydney was torn between mirth and embarrassment as Hardin tugged the knotted cloth tight around Sydney's right wrist. "Where did you ever pick up such an idea, anyhow?" he continued.

"I swear, I've never done such a thing myself before," Hardin replied, a little self-conscious as he threaded the length of silk through the slatted headboard. Pulling it taut, so Sydney's hand was held above his head, he nodded in satisfaction and wound it around the frame once again for good measure before climbing across Sydney to the other side of the bed. Gently taking the mage's other hand in his own, he raised it just as Sydney's right arm was raised, and wound the remainder of the translucent fabric around the wrist. "There were men in the militia who frequented brothels, and ... well, spoke openly about their experiences. Some of them enjoyed doing such things as this, though I always found the idea filthy. Why would any woman submit to such humiliation?"

"Some women enjoy it," Sydney murmured as Hardin knotted the end of the scarf just as he had the other. "Some men as well - I've known a few." Personally, he felt rather uneasy at being held in such a way.

"Hmm." Hardin sat back, surveying his work. After a moment, he abandoned it in favor of surveying Sydney instead. "Do you?"

"...I'm not sure yet." It gave him a feeling of vulnerability he hadn't felt in many years, in all honesty - particularly as he'd already been stripped naked - and he did not like feeling vulnerable.

Gods, but he looks so... small, and helpless... and oh, so beautiful. Sydney could plainly hear the thought in his friend's head, and he had to fight the urge to squirm a bit under Hardin's intense gaze, bending his knees and turning so that his nakedness was not so visible. He was shameless, he was proud - he was Sydney Losstarot, 'blasphemous' prophet of Mullenkamp and emissary of the gods, he reminded himself irritably. He was _far_ from helpless, even with his hands bound.

He'd not managed to get Hardin's pants off before they'd begun this little game, but it was clearly evident even through the pants that at least _he_ was enjoying it. "So then, shall we find out?" he suggested, eager to simply get on with this experiment rather than thinking too much about it.

In lieu of an answer, Hardin knelt beside him, on the edge of the bed, and after a moment's longing look, placed a hand on the inside of Sydney's left knee, parting his legs gently. One large, warm hand stroked up the inside of Sydney's thigh, stopping just before it reached the heated point between Sydney's legs, and then stroking back down the leg to the calf, and on down to the ankle. Sydney's toes curled at the feather-light touch, and his fists clenched helplessly above his head as Hardin repeated the motion, this time upon the right leg, and then both at once as he knelt between Sydney's knees. Once again, his hands stopped just short of where Sydney longed to be touched most, and the mage gritted his teeth. This was going to be torture - honestly it was.

Hardin's hands moved up the slender torso then, caressing the soft skin of Sydney's stomach, and then the chest. As he found the two small, hardening points of flesh, his thumbs rubbed against them gently, coaxing forth a gasp as he leaned down to place kisses along Sydney's throat and jawline. Hardin had braced himself, though, and only his fingers and lips touched the mage's skin, which Sydney found unsatisfactory. He _needed_ more contact, and instinctively he tried to raise his arms to pull Hardin down on top of him, to cover himself with his friend's warmth and weight. The silk, however, kept his hands held fast over his head.

His legs were free, though, and he was still able to wrap them around Hardin's waist, only to discover that he met little skin; Hardin still had not removed his pants, he remembered. "Hardin..." he murmured, but his friend ignored his plea, instead detaching himself easily, as he had only the legs to deal with. Slowly and methodically, his hands worked their way down Sydney's torso again, once more stopping just before the point of throbbing desire between Sydney's legs. As much as Sydney squirmed, Hardin did not indulge him with a touch, and Sydney could not suppress a sound that sounded embarrassingly like a faint whimper.

Hardin looked down at him and chuckled. "I never thought to hear such a sound from you."

"I never thought you were such an accomplished torturer," Sydney shot back in a whisper through gritted teeth. He was afraid if he spoke louder, he might make an even more humiliating noise. "Touch me..."

His friend indulged him, but with only the faintest of a brush against that most sensitive organ, and Sydney moaned as his need flared up to new heights, but found no relief. "Hardin...!" he growled, and was rewarded with another soft touch, this time just a little longer - a caress, rather than a brush. Even so, it was not nearly enough to satisfy, only enough to taunt, and once again, Sydney tried to reach out only to find that he could not.

A strangled noise of frustration escaped his lips, and Hardin looked at him in surprise. His eyes mirrored the desire Sydney felt, and Sydney once more struggled against his bonds, trying in vain to pull the larger man into his arms. "You want it badly," Hardin observed.

Sydney nodded impatiently. John never would have dared to tease him like this if his hands were not bound - had he forgotten who he was dealing with? "If you don't hurry, Hardin, I may simply call fire and burn this silk to ashes - and in my need," he added, his voice lowering dangerously, "I would not be surprised if I forget these hands of mine once more..."

Hardin started to laugh, then met Sydney's eyes. One look confirmed that the mage was completely serious. A wise man, Sydney thought as Hardin's laughter trailed off, and then coherent thought vanished as those warm, gentle hands did precisely what he wanted them to do.

The motions of Hardin's hands started off teasing at first, brushing along Sydney's length with little weight, then slowly stroking more firmly, and eventually surrounding him in a careful fist as his right hand went under the bed, seeking one of the small vials of oil Sydney kept stashed away. Gasping in pleasure, Sydney let himself be lost in the sweet ache of longing, thrusting himself up into Hardin's hand. It was not the same, though, without the touch of flesh all along the length of his body, and he groaned as he turned his legs inward, digging his heels into Hardin's back, trying to draw him closer.

Finally finding the oil, Hardin shook his head as he let go, finally ridding himself of his pants. Carefully measuring a few drops of the lubricant onto his hand, he rubbed his fingertips together before setting the vial aside, and then went to grip Sydney's buttocks, both index fingers probing the hidden depths between his legs, stroking in time. The feeling of penetration made Sydney's arousal stronger yet, and his eyelids fluttered closed as his hips moved involuntarily beneath Hardin's touch. He could feel the nearly unbearable need in his friend as well, and opened his eyes again as Hardin indulged that need, touching himself lightly while one finger continued to stroke Sydney within. Another strangled cry of frustration emerged from Sydney's lips as he found himself unable to do the same, to ease the aching between his legs.

Satisfied, Hardin decided it was time to act, and he stretched himself out atop the mage, hands slipping under the metal-plated shoulders to hold Sydney in a gentle embrace. At last, skin met skin, and Sydney nearly sobbed in relief at the weight of his friend's lean but well-muscled body atop him. By way of a reward, he squirmed beneath Hardin, covering his chest with desperate, grateful kisses that made the larger man groan loudly. One hand rose to tip Sydney's chin up, and their parted lips met in bliss, coming together over and over hungrily.

Just as needy as his mouth, Sydney's hips pressed up against Hardin's, meeting with the pressure and warmth he craved, and Hardin could stand it no longer; bracing the smaller man, he slid into Sydney gently, pulling out slightly as Sydney's body tightened against the invasion, then pressing in harder. The mage's thin frame trembled beneath him, and Sydney's arms jerked involuntarily against their captivity as the rocking motion of their bodies grew quicker, more intense.

With the majority of his weight resting on his elbows, Hardin's hands were free to tangle in Sydney's sweat-dampened hair, to touch his flushed cheek and graze over his panting lips. It was _maddening_, Sydney thought desperately, that he could do none of the same, that he was helpless to truly take part in the lovemaking to any real degree without taking drastic action. Exciting, yes, but utterly maddening. He was used to being the one to set the pace, to bring his lover's desire to a peak with careful, calculated touches, even when he was on the receiving end. And now, it was all Hardin's doing. It was not unpleasant by any means - Hardin's hands set him afire like no other lover had ever done before - but still incredibly frustrating.

All the more frustrating was the vaguely distant look in his eyes; Sydney recognized the signs that his friend was scrying, watching them from above, from beside, from any angle that caught his fancy. With little effort, Sydney could pick up the images from within his mind, and it disturbed him a great deal to see how helpless he appeared, bound as he was. For a moment, his pride nearly prompted him to do as he'd threatened earlier, thinking to whisper the words of a simple spell to free himself, but the words and his pride were both forgotten at a sudden rush of pleasure between his legs, as Hardin reached down to take him into his hand again, squeezing and stroking in the most incredible way.

"Oh gods!" Sydney gasped, knowing his climax was close at hand. His body twisted involuntarily, preparing for the release, and he desperately fought against the smooth, sensual bonds of silk, needing to brace himself and having nothing to cling to. The most he could manage was to twist his wrists upwards, to take hold of the scarf that bound his hands above his head, and grasp it tightly in his fists.

"Sydney..." his lover murmured in response, his voice lowered by passion into only a faint rumble.

A tremor shook Sydney's entire being, and his fists clenched tighter as Hardin went deeper still, touching the place inside him that made him completely lose control. His body arched against Hardin's as the first wave of pleasure overtook him, and somehow he found his hands freed from their restraints. Too caught up in the moment to think about it, he simply threw his arms around Hardin, clutching at his back and shoulders to ground himself during the orgasm.

Hardin's voice raised in a shout at Sydney's touch, and crimson drops dappled the sheets, but Sydney held tight as his friend's body convulsed in violent pain and pleasure. He expected Hardin to pull away, but instead Hardin's arms surrounded him and the larger man fell on top of Sydney, crushing him against the mattress as he rocked closer still within. "Oh, Sydney!" he groaned loudly into the mage's ear as his body went rigid. Deep within, Sydney felt the sudden rush of his lover's seed spilling into him, and he threw back his head, gasping for breath as the sensation pushed him over the edge from agonizing frustration to bliss.

Once his own passion was spent, Sydney lay there on his back, dizzy and disoriented, for quite some time, and Hardin lay stiffly atop him. The larger man's breaths were ragged, shallow, and his eyes still squeezed shut. It was the small, slow trickle of red over Hardin's shoulder that finally brought Sydney back to himself, as he recalled what he'd done. Forcing his muddled mind to cooperate, he muttered the words of a curative spell under his breath. The searing agony he was sensing in Hardin's mind was eased away by the soothing magic, and Sydney chuckled almost sheepishly. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "And after I said I would behave..."

"S'all right," Hardin mumbled under his breath, still breathing heavily. "Honestly... I think I'm getting used to it."

Hardin's dry humor was something of a comfort, and as his friend's body went limp, Sydney raised his arms again, this time to hold him more gently. Still dazed, he was somewhat surprised to see the knotted silk around his wrists, and he stared blankly at them, trying to determine what had happened. It only took a moment until he realized that the tattered edges of the fabric, which had been cut to ribbons, were just at the length where he'd been gripping the scarf with his bladed fingers.

With a faint sigh, the mage severed the remnants of his bonds with his claws as well, and tossed them aside before dropping his hands back to rest lightly upon Hardin's shoulders. "We will _not_ be doing that again."

Hardin murmured his quiet agreement, and the two of them lapsed into exhausted sleep.


End file.
